


21

by dontwatchmechange



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, The apocalypse that never happened never happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontwatchmechange/pseuds/dontwatchmechange
Summary: The Them grew up in Tadfield, where nothing of consequence ever happened. Now, at university, Adam finds there's something off about Professor Fell and Mr. Crowley.





	1. Chapter 1

They called themselves The Them. This practice began years and years ago, when they were just a neighborhood menace with a set of bikes, when they made enough of a name for themselves around Tadfield that they didn't need a name.

The problem with Tadfield, according to Adam, was they were the most interesting people in it. In a town that small, nothing remarkable or world-changing could ever happen, and, indeed, nothing ever had.

"I call top bunk," said Pepper as soon as the door was unlocked. She'd trudged through legal hell uphill both ways to get into an all-boys' residence hall, so everyone knew there was no getting between her and her desired sleeping spot.

"Aw, I wanted top bunk," moaned Brian, who'd grown to be the tallest of the bunch. "I need the space."

"Guys, there's two top bunks," said Adam. He didn't mind. He wanted a bottom bunk anyway. With a bottom bunk, you could sit up further, you had access to the outlet, and if you rolled over in your sleep, you wouldn't break a bone.

Wensleydale had apparently thought the same thing, because he started unpacking on the lower left bed. "You know, it seems inefficient to stick all the freshmen in the same basic English class. If it's easy enough that everyone at the university is meant to pass it, then the really smart people aren't going to be challenged."

"You mean you," retorted Adam.

"I mean all of us," said Wensley. "There's no point in taking it."

"Tell me about it," said Pepper. "I've got it eight AM three days a week."

"Me, too," said Wensley immediately. Adam had watched him memorize his schedule during the car ride to school.

Adam and Brian pulled out their schedules to compare, and sure enough, they'd been put in the same section. "English 100 with Professor A. Z. Fell," read Brian. "8am, Monday, Wednesday, Friday."

\--

"You're certain it's him," said Aziraphale, pacing through Crowley's office.

Crowley nodded. "I delivered him myself. I remember the man that took him. It took me eighteen years to find him again, but yes, I'm certain it's him."

"Is he… does he act like…"

"The son of Satan?" said Crowley sarcastically.

"Well?"

"He's part of this gang," he said, to Aziraphale's horror. "Calls themselves The Them. He wouldn't come here without them, so I convinced Admissions to let them all in. Didn't take much convincing, actually. For gang members, they're quite bright."

Aziraphale moved to clutch his pearls, but upon finding he was wearing none he clutched his jacket. "What do they do in this gang?"

"Mild drugs, mostly. You can't get anything too bad in Tadfield. They drink, but they're of age now, so that's not even rebellious anymore. They throw parties in the woods at night, but nobody goes but them."

"He doesn't sound all that bad," said Aziraphale, pleasantly surprised, then upset with himself that he was pleasantly surprised by underage drinking and drug use.

Crowley grinned. "That, my friend, is why I called you."

"Yes, you want me to stop the Antichrist from turning evil," said Aziraphale, doubt heavy in his heart.

"I want us to do that," Crowley corrected. "And you'd better be in, because your name's already on the syllabus."

Aziraphale stopped pacing. "Crowley, you don't expect me to teach."

"English!" said Crowley brightly. "Literature! Your favorite thing in the world! 8am tomorrow morning," he added, less enthusiastically.

"You can't be serious! That's so little time to prepare a curriculum!"

Crowley laughed. "I knew you'd be in."

"But what will you do?" asked Aziraphale.

"I'm the kid's adviser. He'll meet me on Tuesday, we'll have a chat, and I'll turn him into one of those nerds that visits their adviser every week."

"You'll be his therapist," said Aziraphale quietly. He'd known Crowley for six thousand years and knew him better than to imagine him being anyone's therapist. Maybe this was a demonic plan after all.

"Not a therapist. Just an authority figure."

Aziraphale sat down and poured himself a drink. "The kid's eighteen, the son of Satan, and just moved away from home. He's going to need a therapist."

"We're the ones that have to deal with him," said Crowley, sitting next to him.

"Yes, but we have each other," he pointed out.

Crowley grabbed the bottle and took a swig. "Hell help us."


	2. Chapter 2

Brian looked at the clock skeptically. "It's 7:59."

"Maybe everyone else couldn't find the place," said Adam. The classroom was unmarked, described as 'between rooms 202 and 203' in a building hidden on the wrong side of the dorms.

"What if it's just us?" asked Wensleydale.

Pepper nodded. "At liberal arts schools, they give you these really small seminars."

"But that's usually not the mandatory freshman English class," said Brian.

The clock ticked, and into the classroom walked a middle-aged man dressed like it was 1880 with a massive snake on his shoulders.

"Don't mind Anthony," he said in a very proper, Southern voice. "He insisted on being here."

"Mind him?" said Pepper. "That's the coolest thing ever."

"Totally wicked," agreed Adam. "Can I pet him?"

Anthony hissed at Adam, like he'd understood. "Perhaps another time," said Professor Fell.

"Why's it just the four of us?" asked Wensley. "We're not even the same majors."

"Ah, well, it's the six of us, really," said Fell, passing out syllabi. "Shall we get started?"

Reviewing the syllabus made it clear that this was to be no ordinary English class.

For one thing, there was no online presence whatsoever. Most classes those days had online resources or assignment submissions. Everything had to be written on paper. He didn't even have an e-mail, just a phone number.

There was no assigned reading from the twentieth century on. Adam got the sense that Great Expectations was Fell's idea of a modern classic.

Office hours were 'open at 4pm most weekdays, or perhaps 4:30, except Tuesdays where I am around only two hours in the morning, and on Thursdays I am particularly busy. On weekends, you can call me, but I may not answer, and on Fridays I should be in my office until late, but you might have to call ahead. Mondays are like Fridays. Do not look for me on Wednesdays.'

"Any questions?" asked Fell.

Many, thought The Them, but they asked none, because that was how you got out of class early. They packed their things quickly and left room 202.5.

"He was weird," said Pepper once they'd reached a safe distance.

"No kidding," said Adam, who couldn't shake the feeling that Fell had been looking at him a little too much.

"Shit," said Brian. "I forgot my pencil."

Brian wasn't superstitious or sentimental so much as a creature of habit and conservation. He'd used the same mechanical pencil since he was fourteen. He never lost it, and based on the way he ran back to the classroom, he wasn't about to start now.

"I wouldn't go back there," said Wensleydale. "I don't think I could handle being one-on-one with his energy."

"He seems like he might be chill when he's not teaching," said Adam, though he didn't quite believe himself.

"Yeah, like I'm chill," said Pepper. "He wears a bowtie, Adam. He owns a snake."

"That was super sketchy, guys," said Brian, returning to the group out of breath, pencil in hand.

"What happened?" asked Adam.

"Well, I went back, and Fell was talking to this guy, like, really close talking, really hushed tones and all that, and when I walked in they jumped a foot back from each other, acted all casual, but not casual at all, you know? Like I saw something I wasn't supposed to."

All around the same time, Pepper said "cult," Adam said "affair," and Wensleydale said "conspiracy."

"I'm leaning toward cult," said Brian. "The guy's got this tattoo on his face and shady sunglasses. Something's up."

Adam grinned. "Aren't you glad we left Tadfield?"

\--

"That was close," said Aziraphale, relaxing but lowering his tone further.

"Who comes back for a pencil?" Crowley hissed. "The world will never run out of pencils. The things are everywhere. Even if we fail, and the world burns, and everyone dies, you'll still be able to find an extra pencil on a university sidewalk."

"You know, valuing the little things is the kind of thing we're supposed to be teaching Adam."

"You're supposed to teach him that," said Crowley. "I'm supposed to control his evil. Constructively."

"How is evil constructive?" asked Aziraphale incredulously.

"Temptation can work wonders, angel. Imagine where we'd be if I hadn't convinced Eve to eat the apple. Probably still in the garden, right?"

"That wouldn't be bad," reasoned Aziraphale. There were worse things than just him and Crowley and a garden.

"Everything you love about this blessed planet wouldn't exist. Cities. Bookshops. Universities. Everything you're working to save."

"But some of that was me, surely," he protested.

"Crowley," he corrected, not that Aziraphale would get the joke.

"I mean, I gave them the sword. They'd never have survived without it. I protected humanity so they could have all those brilliant ideas."

"It's almost as if we make a good team," said Crowley.

Aziraphale smiled nervously. "I hope so. We've got less than three years until his twenty-first birthday."

"I have to deal with you for three more years?" Crowley teased.

"Hopefully more," said Aziraphale.

"Hopefully more," echoed Crowley.


End file.
